this song in my heart
by toomanyhearts
Summary: annabeth doesn't think it's the worst thing to fall in love with your best friend. but it kind of complicates things when he's an international superstar, touring the world. OR when annabeth and percy are both a little bit in love.
1. Chapter 1

The first time Annabeth realizes that she's in love with Percy is at a concert.

Percy's concert, specifically. His show in Madison Square Garden, which had sold out in approximately fifteen minutes after tickets were posted online. Being his best friend comes with a few benefits, although Annabeth feels a twinge of guilt when he thought of the teenage girl who had lost out on the opportunity to see _Percy Jackson _live.

But all that guilt disappears very, very quickly. Because Percy's a monster on stage. A charming, admittedly attractive tour de force of music, hyped up by the energy of his loving (physically _and _metaphorically) fans as well as this being his last tour stop for the year.

Annabeth used to be the "indie-loving-top-40-shunning Scrooge everyone hated until she met Percy at a coffeeshop, with his black coffee and his mop of unruly hair. She'd kind of grown to love his brand of pop, fiery, pleasing and a guilty pleasure, but a pleasure at that. This was only her second time seeing him live, although she might have looked up his concert videos on YouTube. You know, once or twice.

After about five numbers of his hits, Percy brings out an acoustic guitar, prompting excited murmurs from the audience. He usually performs most of his songs with his band behind him, but this meant he was premiering—

"A new original," a girl squeals near her. Annabeth bites her lip, trying to figure out what song he's performing. Percy has been writing like crazy for the past few weeks. It's a given that whenever she drops by his penthouse in the morning, nine out of ten times he's buried under several moleskin notebooks, a fountain pen loosely lying in his hand. For all of his bravado, he's an old romantic.

_Romantic. _She hides herself under her hoodie again, making sure no one recognizes her. If his fans found her here, they would go _wild. _

Jolting her out of her thoughts, she hears some commotion from the front row. "LOVE ME, PERCY," a fan yells, and the whole place explodes into roars, Percy rubbing his ears with an endearing smile on his face (and all right, maybe Annabeth can kind of see where she was coming from. Entirely objectively, of course. But understanding different points of view was always key.)

"That's not part of the setlist, unfortunately, sweetheart, but we'll figure something out," he retorts into his mike. From her second row spot, Annabeth thinks she hears a faint thump that sounds like a body hitting the floor.

"Well, anyway," he absentmindedly strums the strings, playing a G chord, "this is a song that I wrote…about two weeks ago, actually. So I don't know if I'm going to go anywhere with this, but I figured, anything for New York, right?"

He hums to himself, closes his eyes, and begins, taking a deep breath. As if he's scared.

From the first note, Annabeth is wonderstruck. It isn't the most complex song she's ever heard, but it's..beautiful, in a deceptively simple way. The harmonies fade into each other like a tune from an old music box, and she thinks it's the most gorgeous thing she's ever heard.

_Oceans turn to gold right before my eyes, that vibrant color I crave, take me there inside _

The moment his voice hits a high note, Annabeth feels it, like a door slamming into her still numb face.

_Take me there, take me there, I'll dive in the sky, oh, the water's alive, _

She's in love with her best friend. Also known as international superstar, Percy Jackson.

Well, fuck.

**song is _celestial _****by tori kelly**

**this is significantly shorter than most of the other chapters, so don't worry. also reviews are also appreciated dudes :) thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

Annabeth supposes that there are worse things in life than being in love with your best friend.

Honestly, she's not sure how she hasn't realized it before now. Because—well, Percy is _Percy, _ridiculous and wonderful at the same time. It's been a while since she was able to talk about him and not sound like a mush of emotions. Especially to the paparazzi, who accosted her outside his house once or twice and made her feel like an international criminal with their ruthless interrogation.

But…that's just it, isn't it? Percy's a superstar, and she owns a fucking coffee shop in New York City. They've been friends since the time he walked into her shop and nervously asked for a gig. He'd gotten it (of course), and in about two weeks, a record executive had walked in, heard him, and slapped a contract on the table.

Three years later, here they are. Annabeth's coffee shop is more successful, granted, but she's still paying her degree from NYU off, interning at an architecture firm part time. And Percy Jackson's touring the world, with his legion of devoted fans at his side.

"Annie!" The door slams, and Thalia walks in, her leather jacket swinging on her arm casually. Nothing can stop Thalia from dressing the way she wants to, with her pink hair and piercings, even when it's sub-zero. Well, at least she's determined.

"It's freezing out," Annabeth points out. "Is it really the most appropriate time to dress like you're taking a punk rock vacation to the Caribbean?"

"Chill," the other girl says, sinking onto Annabeth's couch. "Or, actually, don't. It is cold outside. But the cold never bothered me anyway and shit. Speaking of that, how was Percy's show last night?"

"Pretty good, actually," Annabeth hustles to her kitchen and grabs her cup of coffee, inhaling the smell with a contented smile on her face. If something can make life suck less, it's caffeine. Her doctor had technically told her to reduce her intake, but you know. She only had one cup a day now. Recovery is a process and all that.

"Wasn't all cheesy shit, then," Thalia muses. Annabeth raises her eyebrows, seeing past her façade.

"I've caught you playing his songs more than once." She flashes back to the day when she saw Thalia bopping her head to Percy's latest single. You're Love or something like that.

"I was just checking them out!" Thalia protests weakly, pulling her hands through her hair. Annabeth nods slowly, narrowing her eyes. Of course.

"Is that why you bought both of his albums? On iTunes?" She looks affronted now, tugging on her piercing.

"Look, Chase, I just wanted to support newer artists. The music industry can be hard on them."

"Percy's second album set a record for the fastest selling album in iTunes history. He went platinum in his first week."

"Well, you seem to know a lot about this." Thalia looks intensely at her, cocking her head. She's always been annoyingly perceptive.

"I…did some research. But don't change the subject."

Thalia rolls her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, of course. So Percy's home now, right? Tour done and all?" Relieved that she let that mess go, Annabeth ignores the (again apparent) change of subject. Lesser of two evils, after all.

"I think so. Said he had a meeting with management, but he wanted to catch up with us, so he said he'd be here in-well, fifteen minutes from now."

"Busy kid," Thalia murmurs, and Annabeth snorts.

"Yeah, you could say that." They're silent for a few minutes, only the echo of the tea kettle boiling resonating through her apartment.

"No offense, Annabeth, but you look tired."

"Thank you, Thalia," she grumbles as she runs a hand through her hair. "Not as tired as I feel, though." Shit, she hadn't meant to say the last part.

Thalia, of course, catches on anyway, her eyes crackling in worry. "You have been working too hard lately. Take a break. Piper will definitely cover for you for a day or two."

She chokes on her coffee, putting it down on the table as soon as she can restore control of her hands. "A day or two? You want me to take a break for that long?"

Thalia has the chagrin to roll her eyes. "Get the hell over your fear of not working, girl. Believe it or not, the coffee shop will go on without you. When was the last time you took a vacation?"

The doorbell rings, saving Annabeth from the difficult task of answering a question. And besides it had just been…a few months. Maybe a year, maybe two. Right?

As she opens the door, Percy stumbles in, shades and hoodie on. "Thalia, I think there might be one or two photographers outside. Can you check? And hi, Anna."

Thalia rolls her eyes and opens the window. "One or two, Jackson? More like ten. Or fifty."

Percy groans, and as a testament to her hormones/sick mind/she really doesn't know, Annabeth takes that time to appreciate how good Ray-Bans look on him. And his ridiculously high cheekbone-

"Anna, can you stop staring at me?"

"Oh." Annabeth rolled her eyes, turning a bit red. "Staring? Quit flattering yourself, Jackson. Who do you think you are, a superstar?"

He chuckles a little at that and walks over to Thalia, angling himself so he isn't visible through the window. "They know you're my cousin, Thalia. I think. Can you just like stick your head out so they think I'm here to visit you?"

Thalia smirks. "And what if they think we're involved in some sort of…incest ring? Like cousin to cousin, is that legal?

"The press is crazy, Thals, but hopefully they'll stop short of that." Percy scratches his head, trying to peer outside.

"I can already see the headlines of Us Weekly. Percy Jackson: Teenage Superstar or Inbreeding Freak? Find out if you turn to page 32."

_"Thalia Grace." _Percy looks frustrated, but slightly amused. She has that effect on everyone, Annabeth thinks.

"I'm just preparing you, kid. No need to, like, thank me or anything. I'm always here for you." Thalia grumbles, but sure enough, she sticks her head outside and shouted, "GET AWAY FROM THE APARTMENT, IDIOTS! OR I'LL CALL MY DAD AND HAVE HIM SUE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU!"

A little dazed, Annabeth watches as Thalia slams the windows shut, blocking the noise of shutters snapping like crazy. Thalia is nothing if she isn't dependable. "Wow," she manages, "that was…direct. Preparing yourself for the inbreeding headlines now?"

"Nah, I'll get my dad to talk to them," Thalia dismisses, already beginning to text someone rapidly. Percy nods at her and takes out his own phone, probably calling his publicist or something. Annabeth watches both of them helplessly, feeling a little bewildered.

Annabeth loves Percy and Thalia. She's known Percy for three years, and Thalia for fifteen. And she knows neither of them have let fame get to their head. But it's hard having famous friends sometimes, who can relate to paparazzi and money and newspapers and have contacts in high places. She knows that Mr. Grace, Thalia's father, has connections with the Queen of England. And plays golf with the president on a regular basis. And Mr. Jackson, on top of Percy, owns the biggest shipping company in the world.

"Anna, you okay?' Percy looks at her with a concerned look in his eye. "I'm so sorry for the commotion outside. I'll take care of it, I promise. Not like last time."

"That's fine," she tells him, waving it off. "You're just too famous, Jackson."

Percy's face suddenly lights up. "How did you like my concert yesterday?"

She decides on a neutral "I enjoyed it," shrugging a little, although she can't stop her mouth from twitching. Percy catches on, his grin getting even wider.

"You loved it, didn't you Ms. Indie Record Chase?" He pokes her in the stomach, dangerously close to tickling her, and wow, she really wants to kiss this boy a dangerous amount.

"I'm responsible for your entire career, Jackson. I feel like I should get some of the cut. Maybe…like 90% of your profits?"

"You can have all of it, Chase. The world is your oyster." Percy sunk into her leather chair, sighing in pleasure. It's pretty adorable, she has to admit. But he's pretty adorable, so that isn't really a surprise.

"What would your label say," Thalia muttered, flipping through a magazine. "They take most of your money anyway." Percy sighs in agreement, closing his eyes.

"Speaking of that, how was your management talk?" Annabeth plops herself on the couch and looks up expectantly at Percy, whose smile is disappearing, by bits and pieces.

"It was fine," he muttered. "Nothing new. Just assessing profits and stuff like that." He sees them looking at him and shoots them a half-hearted smile (more like a shameful twitch, at that). Really, this boy is an open book.

"Are you sure about that, love? You look like you're being pushed into a swamp or something like that."

"I'm completely okay," Percy says, much more forcefully. If it weren't for the fact that he was a terrible liar, Annabeth would have almost believed him.

"You don't look okay." She gets up just as he does, trying to meet his eyes. "Percy—"

"I have to go," he says, grabbing his phone and sliding it into his pocket. "Just—I'll call you back, okay? Have some urgent stuff to deal with, and…never mind."

"I know you're up to something!" she calls after him when he exits. She can hear the click of cameras once again, and she's starting to feel nauseous, like she's been leaning on something that doesn't really exist all this time.

After a few seconds, she groans and reclines against the sofa again. Coffee only makes her life a little better. Percy fucking Jackson messes it up again. Story of her life (isn't that one of his songs? Great, now she's thinking in Percy Jackson songs. She thought she was past the whole teenage heartthrob phase anyway).

"Get some sleep, Anna. As I was saying."

"I need to go to work." She sounds like she's trying to convince herself of that, which unsurprisingly does not get past Thalia.

"I will personally carry you down to your bedroom, Chase, and lock the door if you aren't going to go to sleep. You'll screw yourself up even more this way." Annabeth's suddenly too tired to defend herself against that (admittedly true) insult, and so she submits.

"Fine," she mutters, and trudges like an angry four year old inside her room. She pulls herself into her bed, closes her eyes, and yells "I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY NOW!" The last thing she hears before she falls asleep is vague, sadistic laughter. How appropriate.

**Hope you enjoy this chapter! And also reviews…would be nice…seeing as I have zero right now**


	3. Chapter 3

Annabeth wakes up at seven at night. She's slept for six hours, and she jumps out of bed, brushing her hair as she runs to the counter to get her keys. Piper's probably going to murder her.

As she walks out of her house, boots clacking on the sidewalk, she dials Piper's number on her cellphone, pressing it to her ear.

"Hello?" She cringes internally, preparing herself.

"Hey, this is Annabeth."

"Anna! Thalia dropped by to say you weren't coming. No worries, I got her to take your shift anyway." Annabeth isn't sure if she's relieved or impressed. Annoying git or not, it can't be denied that Thalia covers all her bases.

"How did you do _that?" _Piper laughs over the phone, and she realizes that the girl's probably on duty right now.

"Wait, hang up now. I'm almost there. Don't use the phone when you're working!" Muffling Piper's sound of protest, she presses the end button. And promptly collides with a random person on the sidewalk. And now her phone isn't in her hand, which means it's on the ground. Great.

"I'm so sorry," she says, picking up her phone and handing the neon-pink purse on the ground to the person she's collided into. Interesting taste, to say the least.

"You're Annabeth Chase!" the other person blurts out, and Annabeth freezes. It's been a while since people recognized her on the streets (a year, to be specific, since the Accident a year ago). So either the tabloids are reprinting old news, or…well, she supposes she'll find out very soon.

"I am," she says slowly, running a hand through her hair. "And not to be rude, but why do you know that?"

The girl chuckles a little, twirling the purple strand in her hair. "You're dating Percy Jackson, right?"

So uncreative. It's really a little bit of a pity. "No, I am not."

She winces a little, digging her nails into her purse. "Oh. Um, well, it's all over the news that you _are, _and that his girlfriend found out, and well. You can take it from there."

Now Annabeth's just plain lost. Especially (and she really hates to admit) with the whole Percy having a girlfriend part. Which really shouldn't be bothering her that much right now, except for the fact that she's considering being in love with the kid. And also that he hadn't told her. She can't figure out which one hurts more, funnily enough.

"Well, we're not," Annabeth says, taking an instinctive step back. "Um, none of that is true. Except the Percy-having-a-girlfriend part. Maybe. I'm not sure."

"He's hasn't told you that he's dating?"

"No! Um, well, not _really, _but that's—"

"But aren't you guys _friends?_"

"I think it's best that we part ways now," Annabeth cuts her off frostily. "You've gotten everything you need?"

The girl is grinning a little, showing off a gold tooth. "I reckon so, yeah."

"Great, then." She nods stiffly and walks away, resisting the urge to run back and throw that girl's stupid, neon-pink bag on the street.

Hmph. _"Aren't you friends?" _What nonsense. Of course they were friends. He probably wasn't sure or something. Maybe it had slipped his mind this time! He had seemed terribly distracted. Media and all. That was it. Nothing to worry about. Nope.

Annabeth's still scowling when she opens the door into her coffee shop. The familiar tinkle of the door, and the slow, warm murmurs of the people inside are nice, though. As is Piper's familiar grin and warm embrace.

"Feeling better?" Piper says into her sleeve, and Annabeth smiles a little. The honest answer is no, mostly because of her encounter on the street, but Piper would most definitely steer her right back into bed if she heard that.

"Yeah," Annabeth lies through her teeth, smiling faintly. "Definitely."

"Do you just want to relax? Or take a shift?"

"A shift. And how's the entertainment going?" Working at the cash register makes her feel better, more in control. A long time ago, she dreamed of buildings, making the skyline shine with her mark, but now this is her life. The way she can make her existence a little less mundane, one drink at a time.

"Well, I've signed a few people up for playing, actually. Um…a Hazel Levesque and a Scott Johnson." Just what she needs in her life, more dramatic singers. Huzzah.

"When?" Annabeth grabs her ballpoint and planner out of her bag, clicking it expectantly.

"Hazel is today, actually, at 7:20. Scott is on Saturday, 5:00. She's right back there, setting up."

Annabeth follows Piper's glance to a young girl in a sundress, taking out her guitar. She suddenly turns around and grins at them, and Annabeth can't help but smile back.

"Folks, listen up!" Everyone quiets down and turns to look at Piper. She clears her throat a little self-consciously, looking around. While Piper has always had the gift of being the constant center of attention, she's never comfortable with it; years of being a pop star's daughter does that to one.

"Today, we have Hazel Levesque here. She's going to sing a few songs for you guys, which she's written herself. She's one for the big leagues," Piper winks, "and we already have a pop star on our hands here, am I right?" The crowd titters appreciatively. "Let's give it up for Hazel!"

Everyone applauds, and Hazel blushes a little. "Hey, y'all. Um…I think I'll start with a song I wrote 'bout a year ago, when I was with my mama in New Orleans. I hope you'll enjoy it."

She strums, and Annabeth is suddenly reminded of a similar moment yesterday, at Percy's concert. Chuckling at the memory, she tunes back into Hazel, who's begun to sing.

The song hits close to Annabeth. Really close. Her relationship with her mother might be the biggest mess in her life, even right now. Two years after Athena Chase had slammed the door of her Mercedes Benz in her daughter's face, and driven off. Three minutes later, she'd sent Annabeth a request for a check for $1,000, the exact amount she'd owed her mother for college. After that was resolved, they'd never spoken. Even her father, who'd tried so hard to become closer to her during the divorce, seemed to pull away, fearing the wrath of his ex-wife.

As Hazel finishes up her last song, Piper draws close to Annabeth. "She reminds me of Percy. Three years ago. Do you remember?"

Of course she remembers. The way he swung one leg over the other, green eyes shifting around the café. It was a lot smaller back then, just maybe five patrons. The way he strummed his guitar like he was holding a baby, cautious but sweet. The way everything had dimmed except for his voice, straining out against everything that was trapping him (and them) down—money, family, work.

He's solved those problems now, she thinks. But now he has a whole new stack.

Halfway through the second song, Annabeth thinks she hears a snap. Not wanting to disturb Hazel, she turns her head discreetly, trying to figure out what it is when she's blinded by a flash.

Shit.

Hazel falters as the sounds get louder, looking at Piper uncertainly. Piper waves her own, but pushes Annabeth towards the back exit. Yes, maybe then she'll escape unscathed. Ha. Vaguely realizing the fact that even Piper (who shuns tabloids as a rule, growing up with a movie star father) knows what's going on, she creeps out.

For one second, the only thing she can hear is New York, a taxi cab horn and the sound of someone whistling and just…life.

Then they swarm her, like wasps. Except these can talk. And sting just as much.

"Ms. Chase, is it true that Mr. Jackson is in a committed relationship with Dahl-

"Has Mr. Jackson told you you're the other woman?"

"Ms. Chase, why did he come to your apartment?"

"Is it true that Percy wrote his new original song about you?"

She pivots around, something tearing inside her. Anger flows from her mouth like molten lava, fast and boiling.

"Percy and I are just friends," she hisses. "Ever hear of that word? Friends? And while I might not be an heiress like Thalia, I can personally assure that if any of you ask me another invasive question, I will hunt you down and ruin you."

That was a cheesy ending. Cheesy, cheesy, cheesy. But it does the trick for now. All the reporters shut up, eyes trailing her as she walks briskly to her apartment, taking the back route. There are a few there, too, but they back away as she approaches the courtyard doorway.

Once inside, she races up the stairs, not waiting for the elevator to arrive downstairs. The fourth floor staircase is right next to her apartment, and as she fumbles for her keys, the door to her house opens, as if by magic.

"Annabeth," a gravelly voice resounds. Her body stiffens. Of course. She shouldn't have left a spare key at Frederick's house after all.

"Mother," she replies, refusing to meet the woman's eyes. She knows what she's going to see: hatred, coldness, an invisible wall. Stepping into her apartment, she surveys the scene. Everything's seemingly just as she left it: pillows all over the floor, lipstick on her dresser, window's blinds still shut.

But Athena never leaves her without making a mark.

** Btw thanks so much to the people who reviewed! You guys are the best **** sorry for the late update, and what do you guys think about a Percy POV? **


	4. Chapter 4

Percy spins around in his chair, trying to ignore his publicist's annoyed sniffs as she opens up all the gossip tabloids on him and Annabeth. It doesn't work, and he resorts to staring out the window, admiring the black ink of the sky. It's eight at night, and he wonders what Annabeth is doing in her apartment downtown. Or maybe she's still at the café, working the cash register.

"Irresponsible," Martha grimaces, swiping to yet another article. "Do you realize you've ruined the contract? Olivia's manager just called me, and he was livid. We're risking her reputation as well here. I thought you knew the industry better."

"I went to her house," Percy finally responds, meeting the older woman's solid gray eyes. They remind him a little bit of Annabeth's. "That's it. Thalia was there too!"

"Why would they report that? They already have shots of Ms. Chase, and I quote, 'wistfully calling after you after you fled', according to the Sun."

"No one cares! I'll just tweet that it was a misunderstanding. And besides, you told me I had to date Olivia, and I figured I could warn her."

"Warn her?"

"You know," Percy squirms under her cool glare, trying but failing to look nonchalant about the whole ordeal. "Make sure she knew before the paps got to her. We've been romantically linked in the past, after all."

Martha sighs loudly and dramatically, looking out her open window. Percy doesn't stop looking at her; he needs her to know he's being serious, that his career really does matter to him.

_Annabeth matters to you too, _a nasty voice in his voice whispers. _And look how you're treating her. Funny, right? _

"Shut up," he whispers to himself, glancing to Martha quickly. She doesn't appear to have noticed, face scrunched up in concentration.

"All right, here's the plan. You tweet that the whole thing's a misunderstanding and you were just visiting Annabeth and Thalia after the tour. After that, tweet one of Olivia's lyrics. Preferably her single, didn't that crack the top 10?"

"Just the 20," he mutters, and Martha nods, scribbling away.

"Okay, whatever. You get the point. Like a couple of her posts on Instagram. I'll arrange for something from her side. And you'll be seen together at…something. Not at a restaurant, definitely, that would look too staged, but maybe a Broadway show. Is Wicked okay?"

"I'm DEFYING GRAVITY, Martha! Take me away." He gets sardonic when he's annoyed. Sue him. (Actually, don't. Martha would have his head if he was involved in a lawsuit, and god knows those are even more annoying than love scandals.)

"I'm assuming that's a yes."

"You are assuming right." He muffles her hair, ignoring her indignant squawk, and takes out his phone, casually scrolling through Twitter. #PercabethvsPerlivia is trending worldwide, and his fans have pretty impassioned arguments for both sides. The particularly convincing ones (for Olivia, of course), he comments on, leaving tidbits like "_yeah, her hair is pretty ;)" _or "_cheekbones always work, right? Xx" _

"I'm also assuming you're doing damage control on your phone."

"You always _get _me, Martha. Hey, maybe we should date! Tomorrow, eight, at my house? I'll bring a couple of white roses, put on some Marvin Gaye."

"Jackson, I will push you out the window."

"How do the paparazzi feel about homicide? Especially of _teenage heartthrob, _Percy Jackson? Killed by his jealous publicist, who envied Olivia Thompson her boytoy?"

"I'm married. With children."

"Love knows no boundaries!"

"I'm also thirty years older than you."

"Age ain't nothing but a number," he sings, doing his best Aaliyah impression, tossing his hair back, and pretends to be offended when she practically drags him out the door, reminding him to finish his job when he gets home, he isn't called the mogul of social media for nothing!

As soon as he stumbles in the elevator, pressing the L button, he realizes how fucking _tired _he is. Working with management always numbs him to his own level of exhaustion, which is pretty messed up when you think about it. And damage control ops are the worst, because they involve people he cares about.

It stops at the second floor, and a young intern enters, adjusting her Kutani glasses nervously as she stares into her papers. Bad style, he thinks for a second, until he realizes that he just judged someone by the brand of her glasses. God, he needs to get away from this mess.

The girl looks up at him and drops everything she's holding on his shoes, stammering nervously and picking it up with trembling hands.

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart," he says, trying to make her feel a little more comfortable, but it doesn't work. She nods frantically, staring determinedly at his feet. To be fair, sweetheart is a condescending term. Or can be interpreted that way.

When it stops at the lobby, she hurries out, eyes to the ground. Percy takes his time strolling out, but freezes almost immediately. Because...fuck.

Paparazzi are almost _everywhere, _lining up exactly ten feet away from the building. Some are even climbing on top of others, leading to a pileup of flashes, cameras, and people. The receptionist is staring slack-jawed at the commotion, and the guard shoots him an apologetic stare.

"Back door is surrounded, too," he says. "Sorry, boss. I don't think there's any other way to get out, and technically they're at a legal distance. If you want to get out, you've got to see them. I'll escort you, but…." He shrugs.

"No need, Karl. I'll go out myself."

"Are you sure?" Karl watches him with openly skeptical eyes, and for a moment, Percy doubts himself. But this is the only way he can show them he's still in charge, that he isn't letting PR and management and whoever else corrupt him. (Even though they are. Not what he wants the tabloids to hear, at any rate).

"Yeah, I'm sure. Say hi to the kids for me, will you?"

"Will do, boss."

Percy inhales and exhales for five counts, like his vocal teacher had taught him to do before important performances, and walks into the lion's den, shoulders tall and smile wide. Immediately, the world seems to explode.

"PERCY! How does Annabeth feel about your relationship?"

"Does she feel bad for rejecting you?"

"Why did you take Olivia in as your protégé?"

"Are you playing both of them along? In a threesome?" That's not a new one, uncannily.

He stops walking, suddenly, mind blank. The paparazzi continue mindlessly clicking their buttons, but he's got their attention with his sudden stillness. "You're blinding me," he says slowly and carefully, still smiling, only after the last camera flash has sounded. As they look at him in momentary confusion, he speed-walks to the curb, where his driver waits patiently.

"I thought I told you to get the Ford," Percy whispers after he gets in. "This one was—was bugged, remember? There's still a possibility of something being left behind."

Charles sighs, swerving to avoid a starstruck passerby gaping at the commotion. "The paps got the plate number for that. I got a call from Grover, saying to take this one instead."

Percy leans back into the leather seats, smoothing out his wrinkled hair on impulse "So that's every one of my cars, then? That's been bugged and/or discovered?"

"Not the Bugatti, I think," the older man reminds him, the corners of his mouth twitching a little. Cocky bastard. "But we never took that out. The engine didn't run well."

"Oh, _that _Bugatti." It's embarrassing that he needs clarification, but since he'd been about eight, Percy had loved cars. Fords, Mustangs…whatever. So he'd gotten as many as he could, gifting a few to his family and some charities. The media didn't cover that, of course, and had made it their personal mission to christen him as "ADDICTED TO CONVERTIBLES," to make him look that much vainer in the eyes of the public.

"So, what did Martha say? If it's not completely confidential, of course."

"Nah, I trust you." He tosses out those words casually, as if they mean nothing to him, but it's taken him three years to say that. Percy lives the kind of life where any one can flip your life upside down, with a simple tip or a recording, and it kills him a little to live with perpetual windows up, hiding from any sign of attention. But Charles has been nothing but polite and supportive, every moment of the way. And if his driver's tipping him off, he's kind of screwed anyway, so no use in hiding.

"The tabloids are speculating, again, about, um, my relationship with Annabeth. Especially after Martha leaked pictures of me with Olivia Thompson."

"Ah. And why is that? They can't possibly still be using the data from your incident with Annabeth."

"I…visited her apartment. Things were getting loads better between us, after a long time, you know? I invited her to my concert, and I think she liked it. But I also wanted to explain the whole Olivia situation to her."

"You don't owe Annabeth an explanation of anything, Percy." Charles drums his fingers on the steering wheel, glancing back at him with a slight frown. The guy's never liked Annabeth very much, for some unexplainable reason. _Everyone _likes Annabeth; she has a way of getting herself under your skin, and never letting go. It's frustrating and addicting. He makes a mental note of that, might make a good song lyric at one point.

"I do, though. I dragged her into this whole mess, and it's my responsibility to get her out."

Charles shakes his head a little, looking disapproving. They're only about five blocks away from where they started, because he's been going in zig-zag circles to avoid potential stalkers. Now he actually starts driving back home, looking back and forth a few times just to be extra sure. "I'll take your word for it. But don't let her use you."

"Stop talking about her as if she's some sort of criminal. Annabeth is my friend."

"And that's fine. We need friends. But I've been in this business long enough to know that you've got to be...exclusive with your trust."

"Got it," Percy mutters, making clear the conversation is closed. For twenty minutes, the car is devoid of any talking, with just the radio turned on. As soon as he pulls up, Percy gets out, nodding brusquely to his driver, and walks into his house. Within minutes, he's in his bed, under the blankets and comforter. Home sweet home.

**To anon, Annabeth owed Athena $1,000 (just for a college debt, I think Annabeth is too prideful to take out more than that). She has paid it off, however. **

**And I have a question for you guys: is the whole thing about "The Accident" between Percy and Annabeth a year ago confusing? I'm not completely sure if it's working, so tell me and I'll edit some previous chapters/something like that ****J**** thanks so much for your feedback!**


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